The Pact
by Roselyne
Summary: Being faithful to people who keep treating you like a piece of crap, it's not Loyalty. It's Breaking Your Heart. Heath Slater realizes that he might be the Authority's next target. It's time to change strategy if he wants to save what can still be saved.
1. The enemy of my enemies

Written on Friday 2014.06.13, the day after Drew McIntyre and Jinder Mahal were released from WWE.

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**(¯·..·..·-•(-•-•-)•-..·..·´¯)**

**THE PACT**

Chapter One - The enemy of my enemies.

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**Monday 2014.06.16**

The moment Heath stepped into the meeting room at 8 am, all the conversations dropped dead. He felt every pair of eyes turning in his direction, and he decided he hated it. Creative team hadn't arrived yet, but the complete roster was there – those who still had a contract at least – trying to guess answers, wondering if they would still be employed by the end of the day. There were a lot pity for him in most of these eyes, but he could also read some hypocritical compassion, amusement, and also satisfaction from some people who had hated the fact he was getting so much TV time while they were relegated backstage – the fact they refused to do what he and his team accepted didn't seemed to count in their mental process. In his mind, he graved those names into stone.

"Heath… We're so sorry", Renee Young put her hand on his left shoulder, with a sad smile. He wasn't sure if she was 100% honest, but even if the relationship between her and 3MB hadn't start well, they had begun to tolerate each other as weeks turned to months, turned to almost two years. Heath simply nodded, trying not to speak, fearing that his voice would crack; in front of everyone. His gaze met Wade's on the other side of the room for a long second before the latter turned away and looked absentmindedly by the window. He knew how his former Nexus leader was feeling: they had both lost family, here.

Drew had been a long-time friend for Wade, since their debut in UK. They had teamed together, had been tag-team champions together. It's thanks to Drew that Wade and Heath had become friends, back when Heath was FCW number one, and Wade had just joined.

McIntyre's career had met a severe downfall due to his ex-wife, but everybody seemed to agree that 3MB had been his safety boat. Vince McMahon had once declared the Scottish was his Chosen One. After his Fall from Grace, the big boss had come up with this solution to save Drew: make him join Heath, with Jinder Mahal, and form a music band. Surprising at first, their band had worked well; getting a lot of victories in the beginning, a lot of video promos, interviews, appearances in every show… Then, they had caught the attention of John "Faction Killer" Cena, who had stopped their streak. The beginning of a long Hell for them. They've had their ups and downs; screams and storms sometimes too… But Heath had been part of Nexus and The Corre before. He had seen what NOT to do in a group, and had always come up with the words or ideas to keep the team together, no matter what. His team had outdated both Nexus and The Corre. He was proud of them. Even if Jinder was a bit lost sometimes. He loved them to death.

Recently, though, with the addition of Hornswoggle to their band, they had gained the favor of almost everyone. They were still losing, but their matches were so entertaining and funny, that the public was absolutely wild behind them. They were strange Heels. Used as clowns, cheating like mad, but loved by the crowd.

And even more recently, they had gotten plenty of opportunities to get their hands on their sworn enemies: The Shield; the trio which had reminded Heath of Nexus in the early days. This had had led him to feel some sympathy for them, until he had realized those men in black were not there to make friends, but to steal their job. 3MB had been an (almost) undefeated and powerful heel trio… but this is what The Shield wanted to be. In their "search for Justice", The Shield didn't care if they arrived in a domain already occupied. Instead of treating 3MB as allies against common enemies, they had attacked the musicians in the back. Treacherously. This has made Heath realize that they were in a universe of sharks with (very) long teeth. Smiles to his face, knives behind his back. No friend in here. Or not a lot. And when you were lucky to find people you could trust, you would do everything to keep them around.

Heath had tried everything to keep his team around.

And he had thought this was working. They had accepted _anything_ Creative had thrown their way. Losing to almost everyone, getting _one_ victory every seven or eight months. Being fed to the psychotic beast Brock Lesnar, to losing even to a dwarf in a bull outfit. They had accepted to look like clowns so that other people could shine. Heath had told his team to be patient. That their good work would be noticed. That one day, all their sufferings would be rewarded. And as long as they were together, it was easier to hold on.

And in the middle of what could strangely be considered as a push, they had received some _Bad News_. Not in the form of an Englishman on a podium, but in the form of two phone calls.

"We wish you all the best for your future endeavors".

Jinder had been the first to receive the call, and as soon as he had hung up, he had called his leader. By the time Heath had ended the conversation, his phone had rung again: Drew had received the same news.

They were all lost. They couldn't understand why this was happening. They had done nothing wrong. This had to be a nightmare.

Heath had spent the rest of the day watching his phone, fearing to receive the same call, seeing his life flashing before his eyes, thinking already of the consequences for him and his family. WWE was his life. He had given everything to that company. He had accepted to look weak. It had been _years_ since the last time he had an opportunity to show his _real_ potential. Which federation would remember his true value, and accept to give him a chance now?

And he had the same worries for his two team-mates. Maybe people would remember when Drew was the _Chosen One_ and accept him somewhere else. TNA, ROH perhaps… But Jinder? Words were flying over the net that he had a weak health issue. And he hadn't gotten great matches in WWE. Who would want to hire him now?

They had accepted to look weak, because they had been promised better times to come. Better occasions to show their true selves. They had been lied to. Betrayed. Murdered.

His team-mates were his second family. They had been inexplicably butchered. All he had wanted was to get them to his house; hug them; trying to reassure them and find a solution like he had done countless of times for the past 629 days. But what words could be told to repair what had been done? Who was he to think he could reverse the trajectory of the sun? He should have been used by now to the surprise "_Rocks Fall, Everybody Dies_" type of decisions from WWE management. This was against what they had initially created the Nexus.

He closed his eyes. Today, he missed their black-and-golden army. Nothing like that would ever have happened if Nexus was still in power.

"It's your fault, all that!"

Words with a rather strong accent, pronounced loudly and not so far from him. Heath opened his eyes and discovered the Celtic warrior, Sheamus, speaking from his chair. The 3MB leader looked down at him and blinked, puzzled; other people in the crowd frowned, but Sheamus didn't give them the occasion to speak, he went on:

"Gimmicks like the team you were so proud of, they don't damage a career but they definitely hurt it. Badly".

"Sheamus, stop this!", Bo Dallas interfered, but Heath wasn't sure if he was sincerely defending 3MB, or just wanted to look like the bigger man while dancing inside on his misfortune. Due to the amused look in his eyes, Heath opted for the second idea.

Sheamus ignored the interruption and went on: "Everybody knows it: once you're in 3MB, it's kind of the end of the line. It's funny that you, out of all the guys, are the one who stayed."

Heath took the blow badly, but tried not to show anything. _'Tried'_ was the key word. He had never expected such hostility towards him. Especially in times like these where he had expected _all_ of them to be supportive; with each others. Actually many voices asked Sheamus to shut up; that it wasn't something to say due to the circumstances… But Heath noted that _none_ of them told Sheamus that he was wrong in his analysis. Were they _all_ sharing his point of view?

"You and your music band idea are the cause of Drew's downfall, you bloody redneck!", the Irishman shout, advancing on the West Virginian as if he was about to hit him across the face.

"What?!", Heath felt rage rising inside of him and clenched his fists as Sheamus was almost on him. "Since when do we have any _choice_ here?! 3MB was _their _idea!".

Sheamus was stopped by Wade who passed his arm around his throat and pulled him slightly backwards.

"Stop this, Sheamus. This won't bring Drew back, and Heath isn't responsible for Creative decision".

"But he never had the guts to ask for a better treatment for his mates!", the Celtic warrior answered loudly, pointing an accusing finger on the 3MB leader.

Then it hit Heath, the reason why Sheamus was aggressive was the same as why Wade was distant. The two of them had teamed with Drew since day one, back in Europe. Drew meant a lot to them. He was like a brother. And they were trying to cope with sadness the best they could: Wade by isolating himself, Sheamus by trying to find a culprit.

But if Heath's mind could understand their behavior, his heart couldn't. It wasn't enough to lose his teammates… his brothers; he was _accused_ of it now? The silence from the rest of the roster in the meeting room was revealing.

He scanned the whole room in search for some kind of support, until he met Roman Reign's and Dean Ambrose's gazes. He realized that he was surely looking like a wounded gazelle in the savannah. And their predator looks only confirmed his thoughts. His team and The Shield had jumped at each other's throat on sight these past weeks. They were perhaps diminished by the (voluntary) departure of Seth Rollins, but they were still two.

And he was alone.

Hornswoggle was maybe still part of 3MB, but he had always refused to bring the little one in those battles against the Hounds of Justice, and he wouldn't start now. He would brace himself for one of the worst beatings of his life, alone, with stoicism.

And then it hit him. All the pieces seemed to fall together in a puzzle, revealing – if not the complete puzzle – at least an identifiable part of the big picture.

The Shield and 3MB had both been victims of the Authority. They had both been _used_ by the Authority, and their loyalty had been rewarded by destruction. The Authority had broken both teams; The Shield by luring one of them against the other two, and 3MB by kicking out two members without any reason. Maybe if 3MB had shown the same potential dissention as The Shield had reveal in the past weeks, maybe The Authority would have just turned the musicians against each other, and let everybody keep their job.

But under his leadership, 3MB had never been animated by a thirst of power. He had dealt with his team just like in The Corre: everybody was equal; their goal was bigger than each individual composing the team, but each member was to be taken care of, never being abandoned behind. 3MB was all for one and one for all. The Shield looked more like The Nexus: fierce fighters, but in the end, everyone had been trying to pull the blanket for himself.

As Triple H and Stephanie McMahon entered the meeting room, their presence silencing any angry mouths, Heath felt his mind suddenly accelerating. Maybe the inner strength of 3MB had been Drew's and Jinder's downfall. But maybe it wouldn't be the end for him as well. All he had to do was thinking very fast. The Authority was enemy to both 3MB and The Shield. None of these teams was able to survive on their own now; 3MB due to a lack of strength and number, The Shield due to a lack of cohesion.

Other pieces of the puzzle were coming up together.

The Authority was perhaps thinking they had it in the bag, that soon no one would be able to stand anymore against them, if their opponents were first eliminated or diminished.

The Authority was dividing to reign. He was the cohesion force.

The Authority was trying to weaken their opponent. Ambrose and Reigns still had the power to bite.

And as Triple H started talking about the decision they had to take a few days ago according to "what's best for business", Heath Slater brought his gaze back to Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns. For some long seconds, the enemies stared at each others. Then, Heath slowly nodded. After a long breath, Roman nodded too, followed by Ambrose.

Silent agreement.

They had no plan yet, but it didn't matter. Right plans would arrive in the right time. And the Authority would find it hard to swallow.

Because it is known: The enemy of my enemy is my ally.

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**TO BE CONTINUED  
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	2. From The Authority, with kisses

Since some of you liked the idea when I did the **"THE PACT"** poster on Deviantart (user: roselyne777), here's the continuation of the story :)

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**(¯·..·..·-•(-•-•-)•-..·..·´¯)**

**THE PACT**

Chapter Two - From The Authority, with kisses.

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**Monday 2014.08.04**

"Slater! Precisely the man we were searching for!"

The moment he heard Triple H calling his name, Heath's blood froze in his veins. For the past two months, he had tried anything he could to avoid being on his path, or meeting his gaze. Since now anybody under contract could be fired at any time with no reason, tension was rising quickly in the locker room. Some people were trying to get the maximum spotlight in order to be indispensable, even if it meant: hurting for real their opponents to remove them from competition. Other people, like Heath, were trying to do just what was asked of them, without commenting or asking anything. And finally some people had found the solution to go under the radar by simply not appearing at all in front of them; some had declared they were sick or injured, and one of them had even sent a video pretending he was trapped in a cave in New Mexico. If the idea seemed creative at first, Heath doubted that when WWE would be happy when they would receive notifications from the Mexican police that after thousands of people had called them to give Maddox's location, they had found absolutely nothing on the site after days of researches with dozens of men, dogs, and medical equipment. Heath didn't know if it had reached the level of Diplomatic Incident, but was sure that as soon as Brad Maddox would put a toe in the WWE building, he would hear from the Authority something quite similar to what he had just heard: 'Maddox! Precisely the man we were searching for'.

He put a neutral mask on his face and slowly turned towards the COO and his wife. Triple H was wearing his gray corporate suit and had his arms crossed; Stephanie was wearing a dark pantsuit and had her hands on her hips. Both were looking at him with a broad smile on their face; a carnivore smile for Trips and a false-sweet smile for Stephanie.

Bad Cop, Good Cop.

Heath took a deep breath and tried to hide the nervousness in his voice. "What do you need me for, boss? I'm ready to go in there at anytime", he added briefly looking down at the ring gears he was wearing, his heavy-looking black boots and his now-pre3MB orange spandex with black-and-golden flames climbing from his ankles to his hips, and his name "Slater" graved just below his waist level.

It was some useless information to give; everybody was always in ring-gears during TV show days. They were asked to travel sometimes from the other side of USA, had to put their gears on, and be ready… just in case. Most of the time, they would just stand backstage, ready to go, during three hours. And then, they would just take a shower, pack and go home or to the next town. If they were lucky, they would appear in the background of a camera filming a lucky one walking towards the ramp for his match. But until the end, they would stay there and wait. It was pointless to look at the planning board in the beginning of the show and decide to go take a shower and change back to your street clothes if you didn't see your name in the list. That planning was changing sometimes fifteen times between the beginning and the end of RAW. Some wrestlers had gotten the _funny_ experience of being called while they were in the shower, with shampoo in their eyes.

"Your match is next. You've got 90 seconds to be on the top of the ramp! Hurry!".

Hence the reason why some wrestlers had inexplicably appeared with wet hair and skin for their match. Some fans had believed "_Hey! New look! A WWE push? Soon a tee-shirt maybe, weeeeeeeehhh!"_. And they had all been soon disappointed.

Usually, the Main-Event match was the signal for most of these wanderers that they could go take a shower; that it was over; that they had come for nothing, one more time. But they would always come back the next week, hoping… Because actually, _anything_ could be possible in WWE.

Rob Van Dam's music was in the air of the arena. It came to a stop as the announcer took the microphone.

"The following is the second match in the Dean Ambrose - Seth Rollins BEAT THE CLOCK challenge. If Seth Rollins can defeat RVD in under 15 minutes and 42 seconds, he will get to choose the stipulation for his match against Dean Ambrose at Summer Slam!"

That was it. The Main-Event was about to start. Already Seth Rollins's music could be heard as Mister Money In The Bank was making his way to the ring for his match. His music was almost covering the boos from the crowd. The WWE Universe was fully in favor of Dean Ambrose. They didn't want Rollins to beat RVD in less time that it took for Ambrose to beat Del Rio. Actually, if RVD could even BEAT Rollins, they would go home with a smile on their face. The Authority had been strangely fair on this case: RVD had what it took to take down the treacherous dog. If not for good, at least for a long time. The Authority might have known this. Could it be possible that they were dropping the ball on Rollins?

"We're glad to hear that you are ready to fight", Trips started, not losing his smile. "Because we need your talent tonight".

"My talent?", Heath frowned. We were nearing the end of the show, what talent could they need from him, apart from annoying the hell out of one of the competitors, and the crowd in the process? Was he supposed to create some distraction which would help Rollins get the win? Just the idea of it almost made him puke in his own mouth.

Stephanie McMahon flashed him a bright smile. "We are _not_ going to ask you to sing"; Heath wondered if she had read his mind and couldn't suppress a shudder. She put a hand on his right arm in a gesture that was supposed to be comforting, but the former 3MB leader could feel the venom dripping from every pores of her skin. "We are not blind, and we know you do have some talents in the ring". Heath didn't know if he had to feel happy or insulted by that phrase. Probably the latter, but since everyone thought he was stupid, he knew he was supposed to feel honored.

So he smiled. And waited.

"Of course, you're not a A level talent", she added with a strange condescending tone in her voice; her smile was still there, but there was some mocking twist in it, and her eyes seems like steel. "… Not even a B level talent", she went on, "but you do have _some_ talent".

"Most importantly", Triple H started, "a talent we need".

Heath was as still as a statue, barely breathing as he let go a "What do you want from me?". He was trying to act as curious and motivated as he would have been, under normal circumstances. As if his team was still around, and not unfairly butchered by a random axe slammed by some crazy directors. He knew he was great at making other people look good by selling their moves. He was the best at it in WWE. He didn't know if he was that good of an actor.

Trips' smile broadened: "_That_'s the spirit, boy! That's what I like to hear. Motivated troops!", he added, punching the Ginger's left shoulder in an almost friendly way. But even as _friendly_ as it was, the blow was hard, as if to remind Heath who the boss was. But at least, he knew now he was _that_ good of an actor.

"Look", the COO went on in a lower voice. "We've seen how hard you've worked all these years; we've also promised you that your time would come. And, we will give you a main-event match. Tonight", he added after a brief pause.

Heath's eyes widened; spontaneously, and not due to an actor's decision. Stephanie explained: "Look, we made a mistake by booking Rob Van Dam. It came to us that his injury isn't completely healed, so we can't let him compete tonight. Especially against Seth Rollins."

"That's why we thought that maybe it was time to use you in a way you truly deserve", Triple H continued with a warm smile. Heath's eyes were wide and his mouth agape, no more faking his interest or enthusiasm. This was too beautiful to be true. Finally, his time had come?

"Your eagerness is pleasing to see", Stephanie smiled. "We're going to make the announcer proclaim the change. Go and get ready by the ramp".

Heath nodded, with a wide smile and butterflies in his stomach. "O… Ok" was all he was able to mumble.

But as he was turning to run towards the top of the ramp, Triple H called him back.

"Oh, Heath. Before you go, one last thing."

Heath stopped his movement, and turned towards his boss. "A piece of advice, actually", the latter went on while his wife was texting the announcer about the change between RVD and Slater. "We know that you love your job. We've seen that you've always done what was asked of you; and that trait of yours is part of what's best for business. So we have _no doubt_ that for tonight's match …", he took a deep breath and went on, his smile gone.

"… you will do the _right_ thing…".

For a long moment, Triple H locked his gaze with Slater's, as if he wanted to make sure that – as intellectually challenged as the West Virginian Redneck probably was – he understood the message clearly. When he saw Heath's smile faltering, his own broadened. The kid had gotten the meaning. He patted on the side of his head.

"Good boy."

And then, the Hellish couple turned and left him; alone with his shock and disappointment.

He had been right earlier. It _WAS_ too beautiful to be true.

But before he could think any further, he heard the announcer's voice echoing from the arena.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Per The Authority, Rob Van Dam will _not_ be Seth Rollins' opponent in the BEAT THE CLOCK challenge."

He marked a pause as upset voices rose from the crowd.

"Seth's new opponent will be…". He marked another pause. As Heath was running towards the curtains at the top of the ramp, he imagined easily why. Nobody, not even himself, would ever think of _'Heath Slater'_ as a main-event opponent for one of the actual top guys. Of course, this match was a comedy; he wondered if there would actually be some people who would believe in him; would _truly_ believe that he ever had any chance…

As he reached the black curtains, time seemed to slow down and he observed his surroundings. The bewildered look of the tech who apparently had trouble believing what his earplugs had told him. Sweatdrops rolling on the man's forehead, probably not just due to the heat, but also due to the fear of some bad jokes that would cost him his job. Heath felt anger rising inside of him. People really thought he was a joke. But he felt anger towards himself.

He had let this happened. Every times he had accepted to look weak so that other people would shine.

As soon as he stopped, the tech put his hands on his shoulders and turned him to face the curtains, as if he was a rookie who was having his first televised match and didn't know what to do. That tech was perhaps new, or was never in charge of B-level matches, Heath didn't know, but the obvious stress in the tech guy was adding to his own. It wasn't good.

"He is here. You're ready with his music?", the tech was speaking quickly in the microphone attached to his left ear; probably to one of the sound engineers.

There was still silence over the arena. Some people were perhaps thinking this was voluntary, in order to add some suspense about Seth Rollins new opponent, but clearly, the sound engineer was probably having trouble with his playlist. In the arena, Slater could hear some "CM PUNK!" chants. Some people were going to be VERY disappointed. Wade Barrett might be gone due to a shoulder injury, Heath would take over: _"You thought CM Punk was going to replace RVD? Well, I'm afraid I've got some BAAAAD NEWS for you!"_. Disappointed or not, _everyone_ would be surprised.

Then his music hit the arena.

"WE'RE THE THREE MAN BAAAAAND!"

Heath had barely the time to think about his two comrades, wondering if the fact WWE management let him use the 3MB music was because of a planned return of the group, or because they didn't bother creating another music for him – or even getting his old "one man band" music, which they had probably deleted a long time ago. The third solution was that perhaps it was planned that he would soon be wished well for his future endeavors, and they didn't bother losing time and money to create a new song. Especially with all these new guys coming from NXT and in desperate need of an entrance music.

Two seconds after the music started, he was pushed unceremoniously through the curtains by the tech guy. Heath briefly wondered if he would dare doing the same with someone like John Cena, or even Brock Lesnar. The former 3MB leader walked on the top of the ramp and noted the stunned and rather silent reaction of the crowd.

'_Don't worry, kids. The feeling is shared'_

He looked around and noted so many bewildered looks in the crowd. He also looked straight ahead, and even with the distance, he could see Seth Rollins' bright smile. Heath took a deep breath and started walking towards the ring, lifting his arms in a victory salute to the crowd. Only his stern face and stiff body language didn't fit with the attitude. Anybody with a bit of empathy could guess that he wasn't happy to be there while he should have been thrilled. He had the feeling he was betraying 3MB by accepting this joke of a match.

But he had no other alternative.

Rob Van Dam left the ring, still puzzled, and met halfway with his replacement, asking him what was going on. Heath slightly lifted his arms, telling the former heavyweight champ that he was like him: surprised, but that none of them had any choice, they had to go on. Rob shrugged and left, while Heath was turning back to the ring, and staring at his fate. Seth was looking up and thanking God with a smile that couldn't be any broader otherwise the corners of his lips would join in the back of his head and the top of his skull would be ejected in the air with a loud POP!

The crowd's reaction was mixed: some were booing the Authority's decision, others were booing Seth's _too happy_ attitude and finally, others were booing the opponent simply because he had ginger hair. There were a few cheers, but they were lacking of strength, as if the result of the match was already known for everyone. With a heavy heart and lead-like legs, Heath climbed on the apron and after one last check on the top of the ramp where RVD was disappearing, he bent over and slid between the second and the third rope.

Seth was standing in front of him, with open arms. For a second, Heath got the horrified idea that the former Shield architect was going to hug him. And who wouldn't, in Rollins' position? His opponent was someone with such a losing streak that some people were wondering how on earth was it possible that he still had a job in this company. Slater was like a big gift on a silver plate for Rollins. _'From The Authority, with kisses'._

"So you're my opponent for tonight". It was an amused observation from Seth. Heath shrugged and looked behind him on the big screen to see how long he would have to last against Rollins. More than fifteen minutes! The last time he ever had a match that long was against his brother Justin Gabriel.

He almost smiled. Even after all this time, he still thought about Justin as his brother. They were not related by blood and had started as enemies when Justin had arrived from South Africa. But with time, they had grown as close to each others as only brothers could be. Always fighting side by side, protecting each other, always knowing what the other felt when in a match.

And "brothers" was a preferable to "partners". Heath could remember how Justin had introduced him to some members of his family.

"This is my partner, Heath."

Justin's folks had gotten some weird smiles, but had nodded to him. "Nice to meet you, Heath".

Heath saw their smiles and wondered if 'partner' didn't mean something entirely different in South Africa. So before those people could come up to a wrong conclusion and eventually throw stones at Justin, he started: "Don't worry, he said _'partner'_, but of course, he meant it in a wrestling sense. Tag-Team mate."

After a pause, seeing that no smile had left those faces, Heath tried to explain: "It would be totally inappropriate for us to enjoy a romantic relationship with another male wrestler".

Justin sighed and went on directly: "Yeah... Even if we spend so many long hours together, we drive from one town to another, we play games, we tell each others secrets, we become familiar, even addicted to each other's smell".

Amused smiles had become broader. Heath had turned a horrified look to Justin, wondering who would be hit by stones first. Gabriel didn't look at him and crossed his arms on his chest: "So, like I said. Partners."

It was some kind of South African humor. Later on, the two of them had laughed for hours when remembering that _incident_.

It was that complicity that made them later great opponents when good times turned to bad. Each of them knew the other so well that respective body languages had secret for none of them. Their matches were interesting, and long. One would only win when the other was too exhausted to continue.

But here, fifteen minutes against someone he had never competed with, it seemed just impossible.

Oh, he had dreamed about this kind of match for almost two years. Not just a main-event match, but a match against a member of The Shield. His nemesis was in front of him. He should have been overjoyed. However, Triple H's phrase was still echoing in his mind.

'You will do the _right_ thing'.

Translation: you will lose so that Rollins will win the Beat The Clock challenge. You will do what you do best: you lie your shoulders on the mat and you watch the spotlights while the ref will count to three.

Heath had a bitter taste in his throat, but things became totally surreal when the referee signaled for the bell to ring. Seth didn't jump to his throat, but quietly walked towards him, lifting his right hand with two fingers up.

"There are only two ways for you to end this match".

Heath frowned, then walked towards him, his hands on his hips, slightly curious. Seth went on: "There's the easy way, and there's the hard way. The easy way…". Seth slightly bent over and moved his left arm towards the ramp, "… is you leave on your own; you'll be count out on me. The hard way…". He started cracking his knuckles and walked menacingly towards the redheaded musician.

"… is I give you the beating of your life and you'll end up with the kind of face only a truck tire will possibly fall in love with."

Heath was looking at the former Shield architect from head to toes, and back up, measuring the potential threat. Seth was still smiling and invited him again to take the easy path: "Come on, get out. It's not a match for you, Heath".

And somehow, Seth was right. He had been thrown here by The Authority who _wanted_ him to lose anyway. At least, for once, he could leave an already lost match with all his teeth, with no broken bones or cuts. He remembered what he had thought a few minutes ago. Maybe if he was to receive best luck for his future endeavors after tonight's match, he wouldn't get them from a stretcher.

"You would let me leave?", he wanted to make sure. The Shield and 3MB had been sworn enemies before. Even if Rollins had betrayed the Shield, that didn't mean they were suddenly best buddies.

"It's not you I'm against and you know it", Seth's voice was calm and soft. Almost comforting.

Heath's shoulder dropped. His body language showed signs of defeat. After all, the Authority hadn't told him _how_ he was supposed to lose. As long as he lost _before_ Dean Ambrose's time was up.

"Go home, get out. It's gonna be much easier."

Heath slowly turned his back on Seth and started walking towards the ropes. It was the safe way, but it was feeling so _wrong!_ His heart was beating quickly, he could hear the flow of blood in his vein; this almost drowned the boos, the angry and pleading voices from the crowd, telling him _not_ to leave. Heath noted that those voices were far from being the majority. People were not happy to see Dean Ambrose lose the challenge, but they had apparently accepted the fact he had lost, the moment Heath Slater had appeared on the top of the ramp. All their hopes had died with the 3MB music theme.

Heath put his hands on the third rope and bit his lower lip.

Why would he fight for Dean Ambrose's sake? The guy had always been an enemy before, but they had come up with some silent agreement after the June 12 slaughter. However, had there ever been an unspoken pact as Heath had initially thought? Since that day, neither Ambrose nor Reigns had tried to contact him. Maybe they were just seeing him like the others were: completely useless and hopeless.

So why would he get himself hurt for Ambrose?

But also: Why was he feeling so bad right now, while considering Seth's _easy way?_

'_Your heart cry'_, a voice started from the back of his mind, _'but it's not for Ambrose. It's for you. You always wanted to go back to the Main Event, like in the Nexus era. This is your chance. You're blowing it up!'_

'The Authority wants me to lose anyway', Heath replied mentally, wondering if It had started like that for Randy Orton. 'They'll fire me if I don't.'

'_If you have to lose, then at least FIGHT before it happens! If you give up now, you'll regret it your whole life.'_

'Why would I get myself hurt for Ambrose's sake? I owe him _nothing_!'

'_It's not Ambrose you owe something to. It's to yourself.'_

"It's a damn war, baybay", Seth's voice came from behind him. The man was standing in the center of the ring and looking away, perhaps addressing himself to an invisible Ambrose, but Slater took it personally.

It's a damn war, kids shouldn't play with the big guys. And "Baybay" was his trademark while in 3MB. Rollins was surely mocking him, mocking his team, considering him not even worthy of fighting against him.

_'No.'_

If he took that slithering snake's _easy way_,so that he wouldn't be injured, he would be a mockery for all those who had preceded him in the main-event ring. A mockery for all those legends from the past. A mockery for all those who still believed in him, despite his colossal series of losses. You don't turn your back from a fight. Wrestling, getting injured, it's part of the same thing. If you don't want to be injured, you find yourself another job and you stop wasting people's time.

_'No.'_

The Authority had asked him to lose, but they had given him the _chance_ to do it in the Main-event of Raw, not in some dark matches with a quarter filled arena. This was his chance. His once-in-a-lifetime chance. He shook his head and looked at the remaining time. 15min 03sec.

'No. Seth wants the easy way? Screw him! A 3MB guy doesn't make things _easy_ for a Shield guy!'

Maybe if he was to receive some best luck for his future endeavors tonight, the last memory the WWE Universe would have of him wouldn't be a coward who left without a fight. He would go out with a bang. So perhaps, another federation would think of hiring him after the 90 days of no-compete WWE policy.

'Not for Ambrose, but for ME!'

Seth didn't see the change of mood. He wasn't looking at Heath, but didn't feel any movement indicating that his opponent had left the ring. He started turning towards the One Man Band.

"It's a damn war, so get o-"

He never got the chance to finish his sentence, because his face was met with Heath's angry fist.

_You want the main event? You'll find reason to fight. Otherwise, you'll just find excuses._

·..·

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**TO BE CONTINUED**

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